


The Pink Triangle

by Caroaimezoe



Category: No Fandom, Original Work, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - War, Canon-Typical Violence, Concentration Camps, Dark, F/M, Forbidden Love, M/M, Mad Scientists, Mind the Tags, Nazis, Not Canon Compliant, Original Character(s), Period-Typical Homophobia, Power Play, Prisoner of War, Psychological Trauma, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:14:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26015575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caroaimezoe/pseuds/Caroaimezoe
Summary: In troubled times, when the death brushes you every day, one could find beauty and love at unexpected places.Warning: **Concentration camp Human Verse.** Very dark and violent. Don't like, don't read. Tagged as fandom stuff, but only the names are from it. Even so, Donatello's name is kinda hard to fit in there. I called him Dominik.
Relationships: Leonardo/Raphael (TMNT)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 26
Collections: TMNT Human AU





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Oas1s](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oas1s/gifts).



> For 0as1s b-day! Happy birthday! Hope you will like it!  
> She wanted a new TMNT alternate-universe wartime story, featuring Leo/Raph. I'm still unsure how to tag that.  
> The nationality/name etc had been left blurry on purpose.
> 
> Art by Elisamakesart

* * *

It was the first day of Spring and the train had left them around one hundred new prisoners from what he could see. Ralf was standing upright next to the Kommandant, as his position of Premier Lagerführer required. The soil was muddy, dirtying his boots, and he tried not to show his annoyance at waiting in the rain as the prisoners were dragged out of the wagon. It was still chilly. In the shadows of the tall pines, there were still some spots of snow. For once, there was no smoke coming from the chimney, but amid the smell of wet grass, the stench of burning flesh still lingered. He wondered if one day he would get this smell out of his nose.

He turned his head slightly and leaned over to ask where this batch was coming from. The Kommandant didn’t seem to hear him at all and by his red-rimmed eyes and his foul breath, Ralf guessed his superior must have a hangover. He was sipping his tea, the fragile cup in the clumsy gloved hand, and Ralf figured that even getting dressed must have been trying for the Kommandant. The news from the front must not be very good if he had drunk to this point. Next to them, the son of the Kommandant had the three family dogs on leashes. In the camp, their furious barking echoed. The Kommandant made a gesture to signify to his son to take them away and the teen obeyed, walking toward the grills where the prisoners would soon line up. Scaring them with the dogs was a pastime of his. 

Ralf returned to his stiff position. The prisoners were probably from the East. The Reds were entering into their territory and some prisoners needed to be moved into a safer location. Their camp was in a remote place, in a valley among the mountains. It was probably the camp least likely to be invaded. Anyway, who cared where these prisoners came from? The camp only needed new arms for the stone quarries. They would probably all die. But despite knowing he couldn’t do anything about it, he hoped they weren’t children. He hated to see them lured into the gas chamber. But the fact was that because of their location, the camp was rather small. There couldn’t be more than 1,300 people, including the staff, and sometimes those damn trains dropped off 800 prisoners at once. They were lucky that a few died in transport already. But still, they had to eliminate more than half of them, and the fact was that male prisoners from 16 to 40 years old were the strongest. 

They were now standing in three long lines, their gazes averted to the ground, in their striped prisoner uniforms. They were all the same, all grown-ups, thank God, with the various colored triangles on their chest. 

“Fuck those pigs. Kill them all,” the Kommandant muttered, taking another sip, looking disgusted. “I’ve seen enough. Deal with them alone, would you?”

Without waiting for Ralf’s answer, the Kommandant declared in a rather weak voice that they had to listen to his second-in-command, before turning his back to return home to sleep—or drink.

Ralf put his hands behind his back with a repressed sigh, knowing very well how impressive he looked with his 6’4 height. He was used to giving the welcome speech by now, with the Kommandant running away from his responsibilities more and more. He studied them, scanning the lines of prisoners. They all looked so weak, so miserable. They wouldn’t last three months.

“Let me introduce myself. I’m Ralf H., Premier Lagerführer,” he shouted in his best stentorian voice. “That means I’m in charge here. You’re not in a hotel. You are in a camp, my camp. The only way out is in the ovens. If anyone doesn't like that, they can try the electrified barbed wire.” He pointed to the barbed wire fence with a sneer, sure of the effect of his words on them. “I've been in charge for three years now and no one ever escaped on my watch. Don’t play smart-ass and try me.”

He scanned them with a jaded eye, eager to see the impression they got from him, if he had scared them enough, when something caught his attention. Two guards from his camp were laughing, nudging each other, staring at some of the prisoners. It was probably a not too bad-looking woman, even if from what he saw they all seemed male, but whatever the cause was, discipline among the guards was mandatory in Ralf’s book. He knew he was young, he would turn 30 next month and he didn’t have a long record of service. That was why he was merciless about inspiring respect—and fear. 

“You. Do you mind sharing the joke with us?” he barked with his most authoritative tone. 

“Aye, aye, sir!" both of them exclaimed, with a rushed salute. “There’s a prisoner without pants!”

Ralf frowned and out of instinct, the prisoners moved to unveil the one of them who was half-naked. 

Indeed, it was true. Among the prisoner cargo, one man had no trousers—and no cap. At first, Ralf doubted it was a boy. It was hard to tell them apart with their shaved skulls, but this one wasn’t shaved yet or he had not been recently. He had dark brown hair, like the bark of a pine tree. The prisoner was frail and slender with long, thin legs, with very litte hair. He pulled on his jacket, to hide his private parts the best he could and Ralf’s eyes ran up to land on the pink triangle sewed on the shirt, and his mouth twisted in disgust. The homosexual prisoners were the lowest scum. No wonder the guy had no pants. Even the other prisoners felt contempt for the ones wearing a pink triangle and he probably got bullied on his way there. Maybe Ralf should spare him the trouble.

He walked to him with great strides, grasped his arm, and yanked the prisoner to him. 

A public execution straight on the first day was likely to make a good impression on the new prisoners and he pulled out his gun. The movement made everyone tense in anticipation and out of instinct the prisoner glanced up. The first thing that Ralf noticed was how young the man was; eighteen years old at the most, probably younger, and had a handsome face. But his age wasn’t what was the most peculiar about him. There was no feeling at all in the grayish-blue eyes. If anything, they stared fearlessly at his executioner, something the Premier Lagerführer wasn’t used to. Except for his superiors, no one ever kept eye contact with him. He caught himself staring back, locking eyes with him, green irises against the blue. The hue of steel-blue reminded him of the sky above his village, far away, in the North, where it was so cold, you almost couldn’t breathe. The prisoner had very long eyelashes, he mentally noted, like actresses might have. He continued his examination, his eyes running down to the stripe of red on his lip. It had been busted, and that was a shame; those lips seemed soft, made for kisses.

Later, in his bedroom, Ralf tried to understand why he had acted this way. Was it because of the nostalgic memory of his childhood village? Was it because the boy was young and beautiful, and it would have been like stamping on a flower? But instead of killing the boy, he had randomly shot one of the other prisoners. The gunshot made all of them very attentive, all chuckles swallowed down about the ass-naked boy.

“I’m the one who decides who you may target! You feel like having fun? We will see how many of you laugh tomorrow at the quarries! Now undress, all of you!”

The prisoners hurried to undress and even the guards who giggled earlier glanced down with fearful expressions. Ralf greedily looked at the prisoner he still had grasped by the arm. He wanted to see if relief or fear shone in the icy eyes. But his gaze was as cold as it was before, to Ralf’s annoyance. He was used to seeing everyone tremble with fear. This indifference pissed him off. 

Still on the adrenaline high Ralf felt after he shot someone, he dragged the prisoner to bring him in front of the administrator responsible for the admission, from the Political Department. Behind the man at the desk, the physician of the camp, Doctor Dominik S., studied the young man brought in front of them with his cold, analytic gaze. The eyes of the doctor zeroed in on the pink triangle. Ralf could feel almost the excitement coming in waves from the scientist. He loved to experiment on homosexuals the most. He was the sickest bastard among sick bastards, hiding his perverse nature behind his lab coat. Ralf never got off on torture. As far as he was concerned, quick kills were enough. Of course, in these troubled wartimes, in a position of command, it happened more often.

“Name?” the administrator asked before glancing at the prisoner’s forearm and jacket. There was no number, neither inked on the forearm nor stitched on the jacket. “Where is his number?” he wondered aloud before returning to question the prisoner. “Which camp did you come from?” He glanced at Ralf, expecting an answer from him. But the second-in-command was busy studying the feet of the young man. He had no shoes either and must be freezing, he surprised himself to think. A weird idea to give him socks and shoes took him and he unconsciously shook his head to chase away the bizarre feeling.

The young man replied in a foreign language with a very calm, composed tone, out of character for someone just out of the train after being bullied and beaten and having brushed with death. The doctor nodded, with a dark sneer. Behind his eyeglasses, Ralf could see a sparkle of interest. It was a bad omen for the young man.

“His name is Leon T.” The doctor spelled the foreign family name for the administrator to not misspell it on the card. “He is a foreigner and a war hostage. He condemned himself for having had sex with a man when his lover was arrested. His sex partner was the officer charged to look over him. The officer was supposed to be sent to a camp as a collaborator with the enemy, but it looks like he managed to run away and this fool just denounced himself for nothing.”

The doctor wore an indulgent smirk like one would in front of a mentally-challenged being. Ralf could relate to the doctor’s reaction. He couldn’t believe the story he just heard. How dumb this young man was! How could a man love another man to the point of jumping into a hellhole? He stared, speechless, but the prisoner didn’t spare him a glance, even if Ralf could tell he felt the gaze on him. Despite being an obvious fool, this Leon stood haughtily, showing neither anguish nor that he could feel the cold.

In a flash, he remembered a book his mother gave him for his First Communion. It was about an early Christian martyr, facing Nero or another Evil Emperor. Ralf didn’t remember if the Christian was a woman or a man. But the person was standing, glorious in their misery, in torn clothes, showing ashen skin and delicate limbs. This picture had made a deep impression on him at the time and he remembered having thought the person in the image was beautiful. The pink triangle prisoner had the same detached but prideful demeanor. His only uneasiness could be shown by how he tried to pull down his jacket and hide more of his body. It was a weak spot and the predator in Ralf took note of it.

“He was brought to the camp at the moment they were evacuating it. Hence he didn’t get a full registry, but they made sure to give him the pink triangle to be sure other prisoners were aware of what he is, ” the doctor continued. “Fascinating story, isn't it?”

Not sharing his interest, the administrator rolled his eyes, cursing about how some people slacked in their job. He meant the administrator at the other camp, but his eyes met Ralf’s. Indeed what he was doing still here?

“His number is 7684,” the administrator stated, filling in the registration card with his typewriter. He handed a guard a number for Leon to hold for the pictures of his face, front and side, they needed to take. The prisoner took it carelessly and darted his tongue out to lick his busted lip. His tongue was a surprisingly pretty pink color and the way it flicked out was like a neon sign flashing. The sound of the photography flash broke the weird spell Ralf was in.

“Give him some pants,” he spat. Was he staring? Was he crazy or what? “And some damn shoes.”

He turned his back, leaving them to do their job.  
  
“He seems fine for manual labor,” the doctor said thoughtfully. “Since he just got in, let’s have 7684 work for a few weeks.”

The Premier Lagerführer didn’t slow his pace, despite knowing the dark meaning behind the words. This Leon would be used at the quarries to the point of exhaustion, before being the doc’s guinea pig. It wasn’t any of his business, he decided, and he returned to his watching position, hands crossed behind his back as the admission continued, staring coldly at the now freezing men. He snickered. He would show them who the boss was.

***  
When a new prisoner arrived at the camp, they were marked either to be sent to the gas chamber or to have a real—but cold—shower in front of the guards. New prisoners chosen to stay alive a while and work were after that shaved and given a uniform with their number stitched on. They were kind of lucky here. They had a real shower room. In the previous camp Ralf had worked in, when he was only a guard, the prisoners were shaved and washed outside in front of them all before finally getting dressed, whatever the season.

Since the pink prisoner was in fact new, Ralf had decided to have a look at him after he continued to supervise the admission for a moment. It was mere curiosity, but he wanted to see if this Leon would keep a brave front while stripped of his humanity. But when he arrived in the room where they shaved prisoners, it was too late. The prisoner had been sent to be showered with the others. The dark locks were on the ground, like dead grass and the person responsible was collecting them with a dustpan. Such a waste, he thought, despite that the prisoners’ hair would be used to stuff pillows and such. A clump of hair on the ground had been missed, and Ralf bent over to pick it up. He looked at it thoughtfully. Had his cowardly lover brushed his hand across these hairs? he wondered, studying the lock as if it was an alien object. Without putting more thought into it, he shoved it in his pocket.

****

A week had passed since then, and he had encountered the young prisoner many times in daytime, after the morning roll call, by going to the quarries. Usually, he wasn’t the one in charge of watching the prisoners at work. There were guards and foremen for that. But Ralf had decided it was his duty to be sure they worked hard enough to meet their quotas. The Main Economic and Administrative Office had asked them to double their production and so the new prisoners’ arms had been welcomed. Of course, with their low food rations, they couldn’t do miracles in the long run. Ralf had to try to draw the best he could get from them with the means he had. Anyway, they were all expendable. When they died, they would be replaced. 

It was the same routine every day. The prisoners were awoken at 4:30, then had between 30-45 minutes to use the toilet, get dressed, make their beds, clean the barracks, and have breakfast. They had to line up for the 5:20 morning roll. Usually, the voice calling the names was the thing that woke him, despite that the Commandant's office where he slept was on a hill. Then, he splashed some water on his face, shaved, and got dressed, to assist with a part of the morning roll. Sometimes, it could take two hours, so there was no rush, since his presence wasn’t even mandatory. The 936 prisoners would be counted twice, and any discrepancies meant that they were recounted. Missing prisoners menat the work would be delayed and the workers would come back to the barracks late. Sometimes, some passed out and then had to be beaten, and that meant other delays. When Ralf came out, they were still in the middle of the second roll at the latest. So he was right in time for the names starting with T to be called. It wasn’t that he did it on purpose, just an effect of circumstances.

Once the roll call was finished and the sun had risen, the prisoners set off for work. That was when Ralf returned to his quarters to take a shower and have breakfast. The quarries were almost a kilometer away from the camp. The prisoners had to go on foot while the Premier Lagerführer rode a horse. The work was exhausting, from 6 o’clock to 18 o’clock, in any weather. First, the prisoners had to break blocks of stone from the cliff by hand or using explosives. Then they had to hack them into smaller pieces and transport them out of the quarry. The prisoner Leon was doing a fine job for a man so frail. The stones were heavy, but he lifted them up even as he himself only weighed 50 pounds more. 

Ralf was watching only because he was curious, that’s all, about how this delicate and young prisoner could survive in these conditions, he told himself. Did he now regret his courage for having wanted to follow his lover? Would he have a breakdown? He didn’t understand why, but it was something Ralf was eager to see. Leon was harder to spot now, having had his hair shaved too. But there was something in his demeanor that made Ralf spot him quickly, even from the back and though he couldn’t see the pink triangle. Sometimes, Leon seemed to be aware of being stared at and was bold enough to meet his gaze. Even after hours of slavery at the quarries, he still looked at the Premier Lagerfurher with cold eyes, before looking away with disdain. Ralf surprised himself by thinking about what a wild sex partner the prisoner could be with such stamina and strong will. To tame him, to make him moan in wanton must be satisfying, and when that coldness turned into passion with a lover, it must be a night worthy of dying for. 

When his thoughts approached this strange idea, Ralf kicked himself out of it by promising himself to visit the camp brothel. There were two dozen sensual blondes living there, for the camp staff’s convenience. Usually, he visited the place twice a week. But in the last week, he had been every night and he wondered if it looked suspicious from an outside point of view. There was nothing suspicious about it. A guy, second in command or not, could feel horny. 

The prisoner had been given brand new trousers and new leather clogs at Ralf’s order. Oddly, it brought him a kind of satisfaction. So, he noticed it right away when 7684’s pants were torn on the backside. His eyes ran up and down the prisoner, scanning him. He had watched him enough to perceive a stiffness in his stance he didn’t have before and at one moment he was certain to have seen him wince. It wasn’t hard to figure out what could have occurred and the Premier Lagerfurher turned livid. 

He snapped his fingers when he spotted the kapo in charge of Leon’s barrack.

“What happened to the pink prisoner?” he asked straightforwardly after having jumped down from his horse. There were a few homosexual prisoners in the camp but Ralf didn’t explain himself further. He knew the kapo knew who he was talking about. He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing, but he didn’t care in the heat of the moment.

The kapo averted his eyes, and before a lie could come from his mouth, Ralf squeezed his throat with his gloved hand. 

“I wasn’t there,” or something sounding like that came out in a strangled voice.

Why was he bothering to ask when he knew what had happened? They went that far in trying to rape the boy. Leon might be cute, but it was sick, and he shut out any other voice in his head.

“It is your job to watch them at night!” Suddenly, a glimpse of awareness flared up in Ralf. Why did he care? He should not. Well, if he wanted, he could. It was his business and he was the second-in-command. But he was smart enough to know he shouldn’t show it.

“Giving him new trousers would cost this camp money!” he growled to explain his fury. “We can’t leave this prisoner wandering alone ass-naked! What if he spread his perversion among the other prisoners? I want discipline!” He pushed the kapo, shoving him to the ground. The intervention had aroused the attention of the workers.

Ralf turned his back and got on his horse.

“Since they don’t seem to be drained enough that they have the time to get horny, let them work more,” he stated. “The end of the day is delayed to19 hours. from now until next winter.”

They all lowered their heads, shoulders slumped in despair and resignation, except for one prisoner. Ralf had the thought that while homosexuals were made fun of, treated like they were sissies, this one was bolder than many and manly despite his grace.

“You. 7684. Come with me.”

It was a direct order and even as daring as this Leon could be, he wasn’t reckless enough to disobey. 

With an expressionless face, the prisoner followed him, trying his best not to limp. Ralf ignored him half of the way, but he was careful to ride slowly enough for Leon to keep his pace. Why was he doing that? he mused again. He shouldn’t go out of his way for a prisoner. It was weird, and even worse, could be dangerous. They were now far enough from the quarries and still out of sight of the camp, except for the Northeast watchtower when they rounded the next turn. But the guard couldn’t hear them, so it wouldn’t compromise them. It wasn’t like he was riding with the prisoner.

“What happened?” he asked, his voice clipped because of an odd tension he was feeling. “Men like you might be sick bastards, but I need to be sure the prisoners behave.”

The prisoner didn’t reply as the Premier Lagerfurher didn’t address him and Ralf was flabbergasted to see how cheeky—and what an ungrateful jerk— the prisoner was! Did he think he was special because Ralf didn’t kill him like he should have the first day? In a swift move, he whipped the prisoner’s shoulder.

“Don’t dare to ignore me!” he roared. Leon barely winced and Ralf told himself he should have struck harder. “Now answer, or I’ll make you regret your decision!”

Then, he remembered that the prisoner was a foreigner and may not know his language well. But how then he was able to communicate with his former lover? Was he daring to take him for a fool?

“If you play dumb with me, instead of bringing you to the dispensary where you can see the medical staff among prisoners, we will go straight to see the doctor. He speaks your language.” He narrowed his eyes, serious, hoping to shove a little sense into Leon’s head. Why was he putting himself through this trouble, anyway? “He isn’t a guy you want to see too close. He has a thing for people like you, but not because he lusts for a dick. He loves to experiment on fairies like you to find a way to cure your illness.” 

“It’s not an illness!”

Stunned by the sharp reply, Ralf gasped for a moment, before smirking.

“So you do speak our language.” Ralf snickered, looking into the distance, a warm satisfaction at having made Leon snap creeping into him. His accent was heavy and the wording a little rusty, but it was enough for him to understand. “Call it what you want, but it won’t prevent Doctor Dominik from boiling your balls or cutting your dick. You’ll be lucky if he gives you only injections, but I’ve seen a few men die from those as well. Then, he kept their interesting bits in his lab in formalin jars.”

The prisoner shrugged to Ralf's disappointment.

“It would only make my point stand. It’s not an illness and I will die as I lived,” he said with calm indifference. “But he won’t cure me.”

At this, Ralf had to admit he was slightly impressed. But he tried to stay casual. Maybe the prisoner believed he was exaggerating.

“Well, if you’re so nihilistic, wish to be ended by me instead,” he deadpanned. “At least I would make it quick.”

He watched the prisoner’s face at these words. Now he would understand he was better off being on Ralf’s good side. But Leon gave a half-smile.

“I bet everything is quick with you.”

In his stupor, the Premier Lagerführer told himself he had misheard it. But by how cocky the prisoner looked, Ralf understood he had heard correctly and even more, the little bitch had mocked him on purpose.

He pulled out his gun and aimed it at the young man’s head. But instead of shooting him dead and just riding away, leaving the corpse behind him, Ralf wanted to see the face Leon would make with the barrel to his forehead.

“I’m only quick with this gun,” he spat, his voice heavy with intent. The prisoner stared back at him, his calm eyes like two frozen lakes. When was the last time he ice-skated? “But I can become even more playful and creative than the doctor when I want to be. So beware and watch your tongue if you don’t want it to be ripped out.”

He removed the gun slowly, putting it back in the hostler. Leon hadn’t reacted as he had supposed he would, but at least he had shut up so Ralf wouldn’t be forced into killing him so soon.

Ralf gave his horse a spur to speed it up to a trot, to force Leon to walk faster. But he was cautious to not leave a gap more than five meters from him, for the prisoner to do something as foolish as attempt to escape. The dispensary block was already in sight. He needed to make him crack before they reached it, but not too much. Just enough to get the thrill of seeing this strong-willed guy bend. It was a game exhilarating to play, he just discovered. He never had such a challenging opponent.

“So, I'm asking one last time. What happened? I can’t tolerate prisoners raping and beating others,” he asked in a loud voice.

“Why? You think that rape and beating should be a privilege reserved for you?” Leon replied as loud, but far more mocking, too much for the Premier Lagerfurher’s blood pressure.

The only thing preventing Ralf from pulling his gun and shooting him was the idea that doing so, he would lose to the younger man and then this kind of game between them would stop and reality would be back to being completely grim. He vowed to not let the prisoner die without having heard him beg.

“Should I shoot everyone else in your barracks to find out the story?” he wanted to know, asking casually. There were sometimes weird people more sensitive to others than themselves. “Should I ask you to show me your ass and have to figure out on my own what occurred?”

He was poking blindly, but if there was something he was kind of sure about, it was that the young man didn’t like to show unnecessary skin. 

“They stuck a wooden spoon up my ass,” Leon said lowly. “Well, I guess it was a spoon, but it was something long. I couldn’t check," he explained, his voice dull, and despite the delightful feeling he had won their match, Ralf cringed at the mental image. “Taking me to the dispensary is useless, I doubt they would spare ointment for this, but I would have the time to sew my trousers, until the next time,” he added with a hint of bitterness.

“You should have thought better before signing up for this!” Ralf was angry, at both Leon and himself. Why was he there, riding next to a prisoner? Why was he mad to begin with? “He was certainly a big coward, your lover, to have abandoned you like that, when you went that far to be with him!”

“Would you have been better?” The question was asked with some mockery but the Premier Lagerfurher pulled on the reins to make his horse stop. “If you had the opportunity to flee, wouldn’t you have taken it? His curiosity was sated, so what else was there besides that?” Leon asked in a self-deprecating way that made Ralf ponder. “Is this what I have to do for you? I mean, sleep with you for you to let me alone?” he demanded to know sharply.

Ralf’s face twisted and he had no sooner opened his mouth to protest that he would cut his own hand off rather than land it on a fag that Leon huffed, “Deny it if you want, but I feel your gaze on me, every time. I hear the other prisoners gossip as well. It wasn’t in your habits to watch them so close the whole day. They said I got new trousers because I seduced you by shaking my ass and for my hole to not feel too lonely, they filled it with the tools at hand. I didn’t try to seduce you, but you do want to feel my insides squeezing around you, like the spoon,” he taunted, but with an icy tone. “I don’t mind if you want it, but shoot me right after.”

The way the prisoner spoke, it wasn’t a true invitation. It was more a challenge, and maybe for him a way to exit the situation, a quick, proper death. One didn’t go that far out of love for someone and be so prudish about their body to just sleep with anyone in the end.

But Ralf was too busy dealing with a very unfamiliar feeling to reply to the teasing immediately. After a quick phase of denial with himself, anxiety filled him. Was he that obvious? Did he watch that much? If the pink triangle prisoner had noticed, maybe others had as well? Leon had said it; the prisoners gossiped about him and had targeted the young man because they supposed the Premier Lagerfurher was interested in him. Ralf wasn’t interested in Leon for the reasons they had supposed, but anger blinded him immediately. How dare they? What if the Kommandant heard about it? The man might be useless, but it was something he couldn’t ignore if his second-in-command was suspected of lusting after a male prisoner. By questioning the kapo about the pink prisoner and then dragging him out of the quarries was enough to convince them that something was going on between him and the prisoner, as absurd as it was. As if he would lust for a fag. It just happened Ralf had discovered in himself a fancy for pushing fierce bitches like this one into submission. It wasn’t about physical attraction, as cute as Leon was. It was about power.

The way the prisoner looked at him—half mockery, half self-destruction—rubbed him the wrong way. He didn’t need any fuel on his anger right now.

“I don’t want a disgusting piece of trash like you,” he growled. He needed to get back to the quarries. He couldn’t waste a single minute more with this prisoner. As exciting as it could be to tame him, it was too dangerous of a game right now. Anyway, camp life would use up and weaken the young man’s fierce character soon enough. “Go to the dispensary to get some ointment or pain killer and then ask for some underwear and damn new trousers again. Say it’s an order from me.” It was a favor, and the last one he would do for this guy. New clothes meant they were clean and it was a luxury. “Then, never open your mouth in front of me again. If you do,” he threatened, his finger pointing at Leon angrily. “I will drop your sorry ass at the doctor’s block and I swear to you,” he vowed fiercely, “in his hands, you will miss the spoon and the inmates. You will regret the very day you were born!”

Having said that, Ralf made an u-turn, returning to the quarries, his horse at a gallop. 

***

“So, you freed us of 71 of them?” the Kommandant asked, swirling his cognac. They were in the reception room, where the Kommandant received officials and where the most important figures of the staff hung around after having called it a day. “The more of these pig dogs we strike down, the fewer we need to feed,” he mumbled before taking a sip. “What happened? I thought you were starting to get sentimental.” 

The question was asked lightly because the Kommandant didn’t care at all, lost in the contemplation of the amber liquid in the crystal glass, but Ralf frowned. From the other side of the room, the doctor smiled at him, with his peculiar smile—with his lips only and not the eyes—and raised his glass in a mute salute.

“I don’t know what I did for you to think so poorly of me,” Ralf said with a carefully neutral tone. “The fact is that our camp is about to get overcrowded. You know food resources are low. I only killed the ones who were slowest at the quarries. We have no food and fresh water to waste on the lazy ones”

The Kommandant nodded approvingly before leaning over the table with a clicking sound made by the numerous war decorations pinned on his uniform.

“I hear you came back on your horse and killed a kapo with your own weapon before emptying the cartridges of the rifles of 14 guards who were watching the prisoners. They said you looked like a beautiful, vengeful angel of death,” the Kommandant said dreamily. “When my wife heard about it this afternoon, she was very disappointed to have missed the show. You know, she likes you...” His superior dipped his finger in the glass, sucking on it, letting his sentence sink into his second-in-command’s mind. Ralf kept a stoic face. Indeed, the Kommandant’s wife had made it pretty clear she liked him. To pretend to not understand her invitations and politely turning her down was getting harder each passing day. “Please, you’ll have to warn us next time you feel like getting rid of some of them, for us to not miss the entertainment again,” the Kommandant concluded carefreely. He seemed in a great mood; maybe the news from the front was good. On the radio, it was always good, but who knew if it was accurate or propaganda for the troops’ morale?

“I will,” Ralf said, after taking a long gulp of his own drink.

  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry its very short but since this story was for Oasis and she gifted me today with art, I wanted to give her a second chapter today as a thank you

Ralf did as he promised himself. Without making a too drastic change, neither, he ignored the best he could the pink triangle prisoner. But it was like whatever he does, Leon was always near his peripheral vision. Was the little bitch doing it on purpose? Was he in need of a strong male partner? Maybe he wanted the Premier Lagerführer’s protection, Ralf mentally sneered. Of course, he must regret not have been nicer to him. Leon had lost weight and soon, he wouldn’t be alluring enough to get something more than a pity fuck from another fag prisoner. Ralf didn’t need to do anything, the camp life would soon break the prisoner’s balls.

Ralf could tell he wasn’t looking, the fact was when the prisoner had no shoes, ten days after the pants incident, he noticed it right away. There were climbing paths leading to the quarries. The sky was getting slowly clearer; the sun hadn't risen yet, but those pale feet were standing out in the mud. Ralf knew the trail was covered in sharp pebbles that must hurt the barefoot young man. The prisoner was trying to not limp and keep a steady step, but Ralf’s trained eye could see the strain in his body. They were only halfway from the quarries. During his workday, Leon’s feet would turn bloodier and in the dirt and mud, the open wounds would infect. The second in command scowled, annoyed. How did this troublesome prisoner always manage to get his clothes ripped or stolen? Because that is probably what had happened. Some inmates must have stolen his shoes. Well, it was too bad for Leon, but he won’t do a thing, this time, he promised himself. It was a common thing in the camp life. 

Nearly every morning someone would shout out that their shoes had been stolen. Good shoes were a desirable commodity when one on their feet from the sunrise to very late. In their life condition, shoes lasted two months, maximum. Those who had bad shoes would wait for the opportunity to take a better pair from their comrades, even stealing them from the dead ones. Those whose shoes were stolen had to make do with whatever pair was left in the block. Often they were either too big or too small, but Leon didn’t get the opportunity to do so. And again, too bad for him. It was Leon’s fault to be a fag and to be as dumb as being so in love with the wrong guy.

Ralf gave his horse a spur to speed it up to a trot, to get a look on the prisoner’s pained face. But as he knew what the Premier Lagerführer’s goal was, Leon turned his head slightly to the other side, for Ralf to not see his features. The second in command bit his lips in anger and frustration and before he knew it, his need to see his face was too overwhelming. His arm moved on his own and, in a swift move, he harshly whipped the prisoner’s shoulder. 

“Walk faster, sissy,” he bellowed. To show he wasn’t targeting this prisoner specifically he randomly whipped some other prisoners. But if the others winced, Leon stayed the same, keeping the same pace, neither slow nor fast, as he was heading in the forest to pick some mushrooms or berries. And even more annoying, he kept looking away. Ralf decided that brutalizing the prisoner was safe for him. It was his job anyway, and he could choose anybody he wanted to let off some steam. So he leaned over, regretting that Leon’s hair was too short to grip them and he griped the shirt, yanking the smaller man at him to force him into eye contact. 

For a heartbeat, they locked eyes. Ralf greedily stared into the blue ones, prying for a tear or a weakness. But the other stared as boldly as him and a gleam lit up into the prisoner’s eyes. He had forced the Premier Lagerführer into reacting to him and it was a victory for Leon; the smug bastard

Furious, Ralf dropped him with a hard shove. 

“I said; walk faster,” he barked. “I will fucking shot in the head the last one getting at the quarries.”

The threat made its effect and they were now hurrying to the quarries, except Leon. Did his feet hurt him so much, he wondered. The soil was cold as the stones were, on this chilly morning of April. Ralf supposed that now Leo’s feet must be too numb to feel more vague throbbing. If the prisoner was dragging his feet, it was probably to force Ralf’s hand into killing him. Again, it was something he couldn’t allow. He watched him walking, keeping a steady and even slower pace on purpose. They were now almost arrived and Leon would be the last one. He catches a glimpse of the foot sole at some moment and a vision to have this foot in his hand, cleaning and warming it took Ralf so off of his guard he almost fell from his horse. Why was he thinking of that? It was stupid, disgusting and even worse, dangerous.

There was something about this Leon, making him stand out as a rare flower among dandelions and despite how much Ralf could deny it, the prisoner had been right for something. Ralf wanted to smell this flower before the wind blew it away. Was it that foolish?

But for that, the pink triangle prisoner must stay alive when he seemed determined to get killed. For a man being barely over 100 hundred pounds, he was certainly big trouble. But the Premier Lagerfurher wasn’t stupid and Ralf knew what he had to do. He pulled his gun. 

“Let’s make this race more interesting,” he exclaimed mockingly.

He shot three other guys in the back of the knee and they fell on the ground, unable to stand anymore and walk faster than Leon. The Premier Lagerführer felt a delighted shiver seeing Leon bit his lips furiously as he passed by the crawling prisoners. He would have to bear to be alive one day more for Ralf’s pleasure. 

****

When they got to the quarries, Ralf barked a few orders and returned back to the camp. He couldn’t stay there and watch the pink prisoner. This time, he didn’t intervene, bringing Leon back at the dispensary and getting him a new piece of clothing, leaving him without shoes, but still, he felt it wrong that such a fierce creature was suffering by the misdeed of some low prisoners, and not by himself. He wondered what his face must have looked like when he had discovered he had no more shoes. When he left without Ralf doing nothing for him, did his expression change? Did he groan in pain? Did he regret being so cold to a powerful man like him? Why was he wondering that much? 

But what Ralf knew for sure was that no one deserved to make him suffer, except Ralf himself. It is in that state of mind that he got by himself in the inmate’s clothes shop that was closed at this hour. He took a pair that seemed to fit. If Leon had still no shoes tomorrow, it would become impossible for him to march in step and remain at the required distance from one another as the stubborn and prideful bastard he was. The slightest deviation from a perfect order was sufficient to attract the attention of the Kapo and other guards. Leon could get killed by another hand than his. He balled his fists, snatching the shoes and walking with great strides to Block E. 

The brick buildings of the prisoner’s barrack had been erected in great haste, without suitable insulation, on marshy ground. More than 200 people were assigned to each barrack, although in practice the figure was sometimes higher. These barracks lacked any true heating; nor did they contain sanitary facilities and swarmed with various sorts of vermin and rats. The interiors were partitioned into stalls. The 50 stalls contained three-tier wooden bunks. There was not enough bunk for everybody. 

As a newcomer, the pink triangle prisoner had no bunk, so had to sleep on the naked floor. Ralf knew it for the evening roll-call he made in each block. He hid the shoes under the dirty cotton blanket that was Leon’s. He had briefly thought about bringing some alcohol wipe and bandages for his wounded feet, but then, it would be too obvious someone high ranked had given them to him. The gossip about the Premier Lagerführer being interested in the pink prisoner was still too fresh.

To be seen leaving from a prisoners’ block would not be weird, but to stay there alone for too long would. Sometimes, a guard could enter, mess with a bed, blame the bed owner afterward and shoot him in the head as retaliation. It wasn't any surprising, many guards were bored. They missed their wife, their family. They needed to blow off some steam. Ralf was different; first as Premier Lagerfuhrer, he needed to show he could keep his temper in check. He never made up a reason to punish. When he did, it was very quick, for discipline purposes. Hence the killing spree he indulged in ten days ago had surprised the Kommandant.

Second, he has no wife; only a mother in the North, knotting him gloves and scarf too small for the size he was now. The war was already a few years old. What would he do when it would be over? Would he still be alive? Would he live long enough to have a son and teach him to shoot with a rifle? 

A fuzzy feeling warmed up his chest as he left the barrack. Leon would wear something that could be called a gift from him. It was a weird thing to think about. Too bad, he wouldn’t get to see his face. He wondered if the prisoner could be enough of a stubborn son of the bitch to refuse the shoes?

He walked away with long strides, excited and feeling restless. It was a nice morning; now that the Sun was up, it wasn’t that chilly anymore. The sunbeam and the silence was pleasant, now that the place was almost empty. 

"Premier Lagerfurher!" Ralf snapped his head to the voice’s side, his face expressing neutral politeness despite his desire to run away.

"Madame."

It was how he had to call the Kommandant's wife and he compelled his features to smile.

"May I help you?"

She had still remains of beauty. Twenty years ago, she was a B-movie actress and a dancer. According to her, she could have been a star if it wasn't for her marriage. Ralf doubted so, her unique talent was in her breast. A breast that had gotten bigger since then, like the rest of her body. She was dying her hair and her eyebrow into a platinum blond to hide she was a red-head. Her whole being gave off vulgarity and new rich too loud enthusiasm. She was shameless about sleeping with officers and her husband seemed to not care about it. He brushed the gossip away, retorting that his wife was lively. She was very determined to add Ralf to her collection and wasn't making a mystery of it. 

He couldn't stand her, but rank forced him into keeping a careful docile front.

"Spring is coming...Are you not feeling it?" she asked in a syrupy voice. "Nights are getting warmer."

He slightly nodded, dismissing the undeniable flirty tone. 

"I need some men," she trailed off, flickering her baby blue eyes toward him. "I want an English garden, like Marie Antoinette. Just there," she said, pointing to the land next to the hill where the Kommandant house was. “Among the flowers, it would reek less.”

Ralf frowned, confused before understanding. She indeed figured she was a queen, ruling a 1000 dark, sad souls locked into a camp. Her last whim was to get a garden and she needed some men from the quarries for the job, hence she asked men from him, since he was in charge of the quarries production. His first thought was it was perfect. Even if she was capricious and unpleasant, gardening for her would be a less tiring job than working in the quarries and it would spare Leon the walk until there. He stopped himself, angry at himself to have such a thought. Did he just not provide the guy with new shoes? Why would he want to spare the man? Leon was doomed to die, anyway…

“Not before you make him beg,” Ralf though and a sensual tremor took him. An image flashed into his mind; the young prisoner was kneeling on the ground, nuzzling Ralf’s groin. It was such an exciting vision, it's made him dizzy with lust. He wasn’t sure what he felt, but his instinct was screaming to keep Leon alive; to live and see what could be there behind those frozen lakes that were Leon’s irises.

Something must have shown on his features, because Madame looked delighted.

“I knew you will understand me! But I want them handsome,” she exclaimed shamelessly. “They are only low garbage, but there are a few not too bad to look at. I want to be surrounded by beauty. This is why I want you to have a special look at them.” She winked at him. “I will be gone for a few weeks. I need to buy myself a new wardrobe. When I come back, I want the garden to be ready. I will keep the sexiest of them for maintenance.”

Ralf kept an inexpressive face as his heart pounded loudly in his chest. He pondered what he would do with this freedom of choice. He never looked at a male prisoner before; not in this way. The Madame asked him to choose good looking prisoners, and he was sure Leon could fit in this category. She asked him to be their foreman. Usually, this kind of duty would have annoyed him to no end, but Ralf felt this was an opportunity. He doesn’t understand the prisoner’s weird appeal. It was like Leo had put a spell on him; but he could reflect about it better watching them gardening. He stared into the distance for a heartbeat, picturing the prisoner without a shirt, digging and covered in dirt and he felt a tingle in his palm, imagining the stretched fabric of his pants. He could see as vividly as it was true, Leon looking at him over his shoulder, invitingly licking his lips as he did on his mugshot.

Ralf kicked himself out of it. 

“Of course, Madame. But I don’t know your taste in male beauty. Perhaps we should choose them together?” he offered, very gentlemanly. 

She giggled and took his arms. He tried to compel his body not to turn stiff. 

“Well I would love them as gorgeous as you Premier Lagerfuhrer, but I'm afraid it's impossible," she said, ogling him to see if he got the hint. "What about an exhibition? It’s been a while now that our dinners are boring. At the evening rolling call, I want them naked. I missed it last time,” she whined. “But they are allowed to get a shower before. I mean a real one.” She chuckled again and suddenly, Ralf struggled harder than before to not slap her. “I will choose the 30 more beautiful of them to work in my garden.”

"It's an excellent idea," he said, fists balled, weird anxiety washing over him. 

He bowed quickly after pretending he had something to prepare and she watched him leave with a pout. The warm-heating feeling he had after having slid the shoes under Leon’s blanket had faded away. 


	3. Chapter 3

At the evening roll-call, Ralf was buzzing with a weird kind of energy, a mix of anticipation and lust. He knew the pink triangle prisoner would be ashamed to be naked. About that, Ralf was feeling torn; a stupid part of him was displeased about it when the predator part of him roared with enthusiasm to crush him under his power and also fill some unhealthy curiosity about Leon’s body.

But did this bitch of the Kommandant’s wife would acknowledge Leon? Ralf wondered, while he was walking with a great stride to the roll-call. It was sure she would; all of the prisoners were miserable. They had been plain-looking humans and now, they weren’t even looking human anymore—just some skeleton wearing rags. Leon was the only beam of beauty in the whole place; it was impossible she didn't notice. He just hoped she wouldn't turn interested too much.

“The Madame needs men for her garden project,” he bellowed to be heard from the end of the long lines of prisoners. He could see Leon among them; it was like it was the only colored character of a black and white movie. But the Premier Lagerführer was very cautious to not let linger his stare on him. “She is looking for a specific kind of prisoners. Undress!”

Immediately the sound of the rustling of clothes being removed invaded the square and Rapf succumbed to the temptation to stop his eyes on Leon. The prisoner’s cold gaze went straight to him and turned an accusing glare, and his movements to undress were much slower than that of the other prisoners. A shiver ran through Ralf. Leon thought the naked show was his idea, to ogle Leon naked or to break his balls. He could think whatever he wanted, Leon would be grateful when he would be gardening instead of this walk to long death that was the quarries. 

He had made plans the whole afternoon. When they opened this camp, three years ago, there was already a house for the Kommandant and a few buildings for housing or storage. Long ago, a count lived there with his family, rich from what the quarries bring him, and many people lived close by, servants, quarries foreman, and quarries workers. All the buildings had been transformed to be turned into a functional camp.  
  
The Kommandant’s horse broke a leg and died and so, only Ralf had a horse now. The stables were luxurious in comparison to the barrack the prisoners slept in. The stables had a real floor, real glass window, and were very well isolated. It was another way to show the prisoners they were worth less than animals since the horses were housed better. The camp has some free beds that were long ago used by regular workers. It had been decided that was too good for the prisoners. He could ask that the prisoners that would be used for the garden slept in there. The stables were next to the spot the Madame wanted her garden to be, just next to his own housing.

Ralf would point out that since they had been chosen to work on the Kommandant’s wife project, they needed to be apart of the other prisoners and have better treatment. There, Leon would be less likely to be bullied, among cherry picked prisoners. They would be able to sleep more, the Premier Lagerfurher would spare them the morning roll call at the same time than the others. They would be called after the other had left for the quarries. It could easily mean 45 minutes more sleep every morning. They would have the same breakfast as usual, but for lunch and dinner, they could eat leftovers from the Kommandant’s kitchen too. He even thought of another uniform, one in denim, a more solid material, that would be sturdier to tear. 

A few weeks of more food, more sleep, and less physical work would allow Leon to stay healthy enough to last until Ralf hears him beg. Because this is what it was about: to spare him for Leon to live long enough to yield.

Clothes at their feet, the prisoners shivered in the crispy night. Even if they were in April, it was still cold in these mountains. They also had a cold shower before, as Madame had asked. The Kommandant’s wife took his arm to review the prisoners and he tried very hard to not stiff his body and keep his features relaxed. He wondered again on which aspects she would make her choice, but it became apparent soon enough and he understood why the bitch had asked for them to be naked. She was choosing them by their cock size. Every one of them that had some impressive length and looked under 40 years old was asked to take two steps forward.

His heart raced faster as they came closer to Leon. He had no idea of the size of his dick, of course, but Leon was frail and he supposed that if the Madame wanted to feel breed by a stallion, it was likely she didn’t glance at the pink triangle prisoner twice.

Indeed she passed straight in front of him and cursing mentally, Ralf pulled on her arm. 

“What about this one?” he suggested, stretching his arm to snap Leon’s head up for her to maybe be enticed by his cute face. “He is a pink triangle prisoner. Does Madame know what they say about them? They have very great taste. This is why all the best designers are playing for this team. Besides, he doesn’t look bad and seems able to do manual labor! He could be a great pick for this English garden that Madame wants.”

Ralf had spoken in a way he hoped sounded casual and waited with a baited breathe what would be her answer. 

She stared at Leon, studying him.

“Indeed..." the Kommandant's wife trailed off, hesitating. "Look at me,” she demanded and Leon turns toward her with his steely blue-grey gaze. “I’m not sure…” she continued. She turned her eyes toward the Premier Lagerfurher, a peculiar gleam in them. “But if you want him to be included, I can give you this pleasure.” She had a smug smirk. “But then, you will owe me a favor.”

A wave of disgust washed over him as Ralf pictured what she meant by those words. 

“I don’t want him if Madame doesn’t want him,” he countered calmly. He felt the other prisoners listening. He couldn’t insist more than that publically. “But we did pass them in review and you chose only twelve of them,” he said in a low voice, near her ear. “I thought this one could have been more useful gardening than in the quarries.”

The conversation was rolling over Leon and he stared far in the distance without a care in the world, but suddenly, he spoke.

“If you want an English garden, I can help since we have one, at our family castle.” Leon gazed at the Kommandant’s wife with a posed voice, but a hint of contempt was decipherable. “I loved to play and then, read in the fake cave or the Chinese kiosk we had. I saw how our gardeners worked to maintain the garden.”

Ralf gaped, first at the prisoner’s boldness. To speak first to the wife’s Kommandant was punished by death. But the words lit up a fire in his blood. Now, he knew why this prisoner was so arrogant and crawled under his skin so much. He was an aristocrat and those people were all egocentric bastards. He didn’t even doubt it was true, even if the family name given at the registry wasn’t sounding noble. In fact, it was making sense. Ralf could have his life in his hand, he was a commoner, unworthy Leon was even afraid of him. He had ancestors that had probably died in the Crusades and so ending killed by the enemy wasn’t something to be scared of. When this war would be over, in the country he was coming from, relatives would be proud Leon had died, looking at the grim reaper straight in the eyes. How much he always hated those kinds of people.

It made Ralf even more motivated to make Leon bent the knees and the beast in him roared with enthusiasm. The game was now tenfold exciting.   
He turned to the Kommandant’s wife, hoping she wouldn’t ask him to kill him for his audacity, but her eyes were zeroing in on Leon’s body. 

“You got a tattoo,” she said, with a slight interest. “It must be rare for a little Prince like you seem to be?”

Ralf allowed for a moment his eyes to scan the body of the young man, curious now. The first thing he noticed was the nipples, hardened by the cold. In the harsh light given by the lamp pole over them, he could see the pinkish color. But just under, on his chest, a rose of the same pink hue was inked in the flesh. Ralf’s mouth grew dry with the desire to lick and nibble it. He turned away, embarrassed about his intense reaction. It should not show on his face.

“I did it out of love,” Leon said mechanically and something ugly twisted Ralf’s guts. Does this guy have a limit of what he could do for love? It must be wild to have a partner getting that far for you. “It was meant to be for my lover’s eyes only.”

Was it the reason Leon was so prudish, he wondered angrily, but the Madame didn’t seem convinced yet.

“Men lusting for men are boring,” she stated. “But to please the Premier Lagerführer,” she glanced at Ralf, a cold smile on her painted lips, “I will take you.”

She was now pulling on Ralf’s arm to continue and he followed, having no idea how to continue the conversation anyway. It was evident she wouldn’t have taken Leon if it wasn’t for him and so, insisting he didn’t care would have led to Leon staying at the quarries and dying sooner.

“Let’s hurry,” she said. “I have a train to take and I want to kiss you goodbye before.”  
****

The following weeks had been peaceful, as it could be in hell pit. Ralf didn’t stay there watching the gardeners the whole day, but since Madame entrusted him with it, he had to make it his priority he had told the Kommandant. So he spent more of his time there, but it was also to see his horse or well, he was just casually watching from his house. It wasn’t his fault that the Madame had asked for the garden to be between his and the Kommandant’s house.

He had no idea of what she wanted as a garden, neither what was an English Garden. When she leaves, she has other things on her mind, like humping him. She didn’t have the time to push him down on her bed, thanks God, but Ralf knew it was only postponed. He couldn’t avoid bedding her. He tried to not overthink it. She would get what she wants and then leave him alone. 

To validate Leon’s choice and to be sure he wouldn’t be bullied by this new group of inmates, he had asked Leon to write it down what they needed when he had stepped in the stable they would sleep in now. Of course, it wasn’t smelling good, but even so, it was smelling far better than the barrack they were coming from. Ralf’s squire was cleaning the straw twice a day and at least they had an outside toilet and could use the shower of the camp.

There were only fourteen men in a stable made for fifty horses and Ralf had watched them as they himself had to work to make the place more liveable. No one could gossip about him spoiling the pink triangle prisoner. There were thirteen other prisoners and he did nothing for Leon in specific. The men chosen to be gardeners were too conscious of their luck to push it by mingling in the Premier Lagerfuhrer business. So the first days had been serene. 

They had prepared the soil and cut down a few pines while waiting for what they needed from the city, seeds, and such, to arrive. Ralf watched them work and somewhat, looking at the prisoners not wearing the same uniform, doing a more human-like job soothed his soul. In the trees, he could hear the birds chirps, announcing Spring was definitely there. Some wild, early flowers were blooming and from their spot on the hill, they could smell the forest near, a more pleasant aroma than shit, sweat, and the oven. The day before, he had sent a few there. It was the orders and well, it was making more beds available. What would he do after the war, he wondered. With the money he had saved, he wanted to get a land with a wooden part. He would make furniture with his wood and finally make the job he had wanted to do: cabinetmaker. He would have his own vegetable garden, some chicken and a cow. If they win the war, it would be even more assured his dream comes true. He had a spotless officer record. Then, he would make his mother come. She would take care of the house if he didn’t find a wife.

He daydreamed like that most of the time, having almost forgotten what it was to just stay there outside and feed squirrels. Those prisoners weren’t a big job to watch, too happy the Premier Lagerfurher gave them an apple as a snack. 

Except for what was garden related, Ralf hadn’t spoken a word to the pink triangle prisoner. He wanted Leon to have his guard down, get quietly used to the better treatment for when it would be over, he begs Ralf on his knees to not return to the quarries and the other over-crowded barrack. He never went to think what he would do once Leon begs because the day they received what they had ordered, it was 25’C and the prisoners had asked if they could work t-shirt less.

Ralf allowed it, shrugging his shoulders. There was no point to be cruel and refuse it, but one hour later, as the sweat rolled down Leon’s body, making the dirt stick to him, the Premier Lagerführer felt a tingle in his groin. He wanted him, he realized, it wasn’t only about submission and exerting power over him. He wanted to pin Leon down on the ground and fuck him senseless in the dirt, tainting his pale body. He wanted to make Leon yell and cry and lose total control; he wanted him to cling to his neck and ask Ralf to never let go of him. 

He wanted so much and it scared the shit out of him. 

As he could read his mind, Leon turned his head slightly, wiping his forehead. The black hair was growing, but it would take two months to be long enough for Raph to pull on it. An erotic scenario flashed in his mind as he saw the prisoner ambling to the water tank, to splash his face and have a cup of water. This was another nicety from him to them, unlimited water access. But the bastard wasn’t grateful a bit. On the opposite, how he bent over to drink, showing off his ass, enhanced by the thigh fabric, was a sure provocation.

Leon was doing it on purpose, to entice him, he decided, balling his fists. Did he want to seduce him to get the upper hand? Or did he finally understand that pleasing the Premier Lagerführer was the thing to do to survive? It was hard to believe this theory by the way Leon looked at him, like he was nothing more than a worm.

Another prisoner walked to the tank and Leo gave him the single cup. Something was wrong in this display and Ralf folded his arms, frowning. The other prisoner was blond and tanned and had been the Madame’s first pick because work had given him some muscles. Nothing as impressive as Ralf’s own ripped body, but this one was still as attractive as he could be in this work camp.

Ralf had never been an intellectual, but what saved him from having bad grades at school was his photographic memory. He scanned in his mind all the Camp’s prisoners register book before he nailed it: this one too was a foreigner, but also a Pink Triangle prisoner and his whole body turned tense. He took two steps forward and studied them like a hawk, his green eyes blazing, prying on them.

They seemed to start a small talk. From where he was, Ralf couldn’t hear the words spoken, but then he froze. Leon smiled at the other prisoner and even, he looked like he had chuckled.   
  
The Premier Lagerführer’s body moved on his own; he walked the distance between them and yanked Leon to him.

“You!” he spat to the other prisoner. “Go back to work or I will make you get a good reason to go to Dr. Dominik’s office.” It was Ralf’s favorite but also, more serious threat and the other prisoner gulped and dashed to return to work. The Doctor was giving the creep to everybody.

“And you,” he said to Leon, “Come inside. “We have to talk about this waterfall you suggested.” 

He had been sure to talk in his loudest voice. First, he wanted to know that even though his control seemed to have slacked, he wanted a tight discipline. Secondly, he needed a reason to leave with Leon. He dragged him to the stable forcefully and the prisoner gave him no resistance at all.

At the minute the door shut between them, he snarled at him.

“Wasn’t I kind to you? Did I not save your damn life many times, already?” 

Cold indifference stared back at him and Ralf realized he was trembling with anger. He has to calm down, if not, the little bitch would know he got at him.

But it was like he had no control over his mouth, nor his body, for the matter; he was shaking Leon had he wanted to snap his arm off. 

“He is a commoner, just like me!” Ralf finally roared, knowing he wasn’t making any sense and also, that he was telling more than what he intended. It sounded so like “Why him, not me,” that he let go of Leon’s arm. He was ashamed of himself and lack of control in front of one of the scums he was only supposed to watch and not care. 

“What does it have to do with it?” Leon retorted calmly. “And what I’m supposed to do with this kindness of yours I never asked for?” His mouth twisted into a smug smirk. “I never wanted to be saved, even less by you.”

It was too much to bear and Ralf slapped him across the face with his heavy gloved hand. The prisoner didn’t see it coming and so, hadn’t the time to brace himself and he bumped into the table behind him.

“Don’t be cheeky,” the Premier Lagerführer warned him, his finger raised. “I can send you back in the quarries in a snap of my fingers. We will see how much you will miss me there.”

“I won’t!”

Fury blinded Ralf and he threw himself at him again. 

“Oh yes, you will, I have all the authority here,” he growled, squeezing the other’s throat, bending him backward. “The Kommandant is too lazy to care and do whatever his wife wants. The wife would do as I said because she is thirsty for my dick.”

“As I should be?” Leon managed to utter.

The shock to discover he was so transparent made Ralf release his hold. But he didn’t agree straightforwardly.

“If you don’t mind dying for yourself, maybe you will mind your friend’s life. I saw Madame once very furious with one of her servants, last August.” Ralf grinned sadistically. “I don’t remember what the servants did, spilling coffee or pulling too hard while brushing her mistress’ hair, but I do remember what Madame did. She had her tied on a tree, this one.” While speaking, he had dragged Leon in front of the window. All the other prisoners were carefully keeping their focus on their gardening duty. “You see this big tree? She got her tied tight, exposed to full sun and with her feet not touching the ground. Then, she covered her with honey. She even made sure to rub her inside with it. After two days, her skin was crimson, gleaming like a flame. Flies and ants were getting in and out of her sex. There were so many of them, her pussy seemed to be a hedgehog!” The Premier lagerführer chuckled darkly. “If you think I’m lying, ask everyone around you. I’m sure they remember her begging and crying. At some point, I became annoyed by her ruckus and I shot her in the head.”

The pink triangle prisoner stayed stern and Ralf pushed further.

“You got a nice tattoo. Too bad isn't only for your lover to see or touch, not” Ralf brushed it with the thumb and he shivered hard. The skin was smooth under his hand, so soft. And under the inked flower, a heart was beating in this chest, still beating because Ralf had wanted it to be. So, why did Leon dared to close it to him? He wanted him, he wanted to make him begs, yes, but also to make him his. He wanted Leon to get his flesh pierced by a needle out of love for him; he wanted Leon to sacrifice his life for him as he did for his other lover. Was Ralf not better deserving? He was playing a dangerous game for Leon to get spared. He would even have to sleep with this awful woman.

“Too bad, Madame loves them too,” he continued. “I heard she had some lampshade in her bedroom made from skinned tattooed prisoners. I know; it’s tasteless, but we can’t all be aristocrats like you. But Madame could be imaginative, she is an angel of mercy next to the Doctor, but I already told you about him, right?” 

“So? You are a bunch of sadistic bastards.” Leon huffed, unimpressed. “This isn’t like it was anything new.”

Challenge shone in the blue eyes and Ralf knew it: he had to make the deal crystal clear.

“So, be nice to me, or I will make you dig a hole to bury your friend in it after I tortured him myself," he growled threateningly. "After having watched so much, I have quite an imagination, too. Don't cross me.”

A cynical smirk graced the young man’s features.

“And how do I do that, being nice to you? he asked, ironic.

Damn it, he had to spell it aloud, but Ralf did anyway. 

“Drop on your knees and suck me off,” he blurted out, his voice clipped.

For one moment, Ralf was scared and it was so an unfamiliar and unnerving feeling. What if Leon refused? Ralf would have to kill him to save face. Maybe it would be for the best? Now, this stupid attraction would end. 

But slowly, Leon went on his knees and Ralf pulled out his cock, quickly. He didn’t want to look eager for another man’s mouth and so, he insulted him.

“Show me how a good submissive bitch you are.”

The prisoner didn’t reply and took it in his mouth and the Premier Lagerführer bit his lip to not moan aloud. He could tell Leon wasn’t eager, but he still sucked on his cock dutifully and it was enough to make Ralf's toes curl in his boots. He had to stay silent and he bit into his glove. Why was Leon's mouth that good? Was it because he was a man and knew better all the sensitive spot on a dick?

As a handsome man and a high ranked officer, blow jobs were familiar to him, but it still didn’t prevent him from finding this one was the best and split his load very quickly. He decided the thrill to have bent Leon to his wills was the reason for it.

Leon spat loudly on the floor and Ralf was too much in his afterglow to reprimand him. 

“Can I go, now?” Leon asked in a dull voice. 

With a sign of the hand, Ralf dismissed him, and the prisoner left with a steady step. It was only a few minutes later, after having wiped himself clean with some bed linen and looked by the window that Ralf understood the consequences.

He didn’t win at all, he realized, watching as Leon moved a rock for the waterfall, unbothered as if nothing had happened. He didn’t win and was now in deep shit, because now he was in love, he told himself with a scowl. 


End file.
